a peek inside the poetic freak

Sometimes I wonder if the stars would compare themselves to each other if they’re alive. Who shines the brightest? Who’s the prettiest?

They don’t know that we find them beautiful as a whole. We stop at night to look up and see them. Sometimes go to less polluted places so we could take a clear, long look. Some of us even look regularly to find new lights.

I wonder if they know how many pieces of art have been created because of them; metaphores, poems, songs, paintings, pictures, even things like clothes and cheesy love letters.

I think about the ones whose lights die. Then they turn into bitter blackholes. Even then, many of us find them beautiful. It just takes the right kind of people to appreciate that kind of beauty.